


Train Ride to the Ferry Dock

by soy_millk_cereal



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, it’s pretty hot, they fuck on a train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_millk_cereal/pseuds/soy_millk_cereal
Summary: Rudyard Funn had never left the island of Piffling Vale. Not that he ever wanted to, but the way Chapman described the mainland was rather tempting, and - after a little coercion -  Eric had convinced Rudyard to travel out with him as a date to this year's STIFFED conference (Rudyard had not been invited after last year’s disaster, but Chapman had a plus one). This story takes place on the train back to the ferry dock after that conference.
Relationships: Eric Chapman/Rudyard Funn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Train Ride to the Ferry Dock

**Author's Note:**

> This slash needs more fanfics. Unfortunately, I can only write porn. So, this is my less-than-honorable contribution in an effort to motivate you to write some overly-indulgent feel-good Eric and Rudyard fluff. If I haven’t been clear enough, the following is purely porn. Continue at your own discretion. 
> 
> (As of April 23 2020, I am still working on editing this bitch. However, all major errors and spelling mistakes have been fixed.)

Rudyard Funn had never left the island of Piffling Vale. Not that he ever _wanted_ to, but the way Chapman described the mainland was really rather tempting, and (after a little coercion) Eric had convinced Rudyard to travel out with him as a date to this year's STIFFED conference (Rudyard had not been invited after last year’s disaster, but Chapman had a plus one). After a sequence of ferries, trains, and taxis, they had arrived at the event and stayed long past dinner. Thus, it was in the darker hours of the evening when Eric and Rudyard stood, waiting at the station to catch the last train heading out of the city. Eric had worn a long, woolen pea coat to protect against the mid-winter wind. Rudyard had not, and was thusly slouched, shivering begrudgingly against the right side of a warm Chapman. After a particularly aggressive quiver, Eric grabs the lithe frame beside him and (rather roughly) positions it to stand within his jacket-clad arms. Against his better instincts, Rudyard gratefully keens into the warm embrace. Still, Chapman refuses to keep his damn hands to himself and sneaks a gloved hand teasingly up under Rudyard’s shirt just as the train pulls into the station. Rudyard makes a show of untangling himself from the intrusive limbs and wordlessly enters the train car. It’s empty.

Eric quickly follows, situating himself nearly on top of Rudyard and hanging his lavish coat over an adjacent seat. His eyes move to Rudyard and he clears his throat. Rudyard temporary pauses his inspection of the floor.

“Bloody fuck, Rudyard. 9 hours. 9 _bloody_ hours of having to look at you in that damn perfect suit and knowing that I can’t do a thing about it,” Eric growls, pulling Rudyard half into his lap by the lapels. He kisses him, hard. Rudyard let out a lewd yelp of surprise. Eric breaks the kiss (much to the dismay of Rudyard) in order to strip himself of the gloves and quickly scan the train car for other passengers. Satisfied with finding none, he touches Rudyard indecently low for a public space, coaxing an adorably frustrated moan from the others mouth. Rudyard quickly recovers, and a familiar look of anger graces his features.

“Chapman! We-we can’t- you know that we have at least another hour long ride in the ferry until we get back home. I will not have you working me up again with no release!”

Eric smirks, “Very well. Have your way.” He stops the ministrations, opting instead to focus on the personless city-scape outside of the smudged train window. They’ve both been on edge for literally hours now since the conference and, despite his earlier diatribe, Rudyard’s patience has finally snapped. He silently surrenders, straddles one of Eric’s thighs, and resumes their kiss. Eric feels hot fingers dipping below his belt and if he wants to hold out any hope of not completely embarrassing himself on the train he must continually keep grabbing those shameless hands and dragging them away. The fourth time he catches the wandering hands, he breaks the kiss to mutter, “If that’s how you’re going to be…” and tugs hard on the wrist in his grasp, yanking Rudyard off balance and manhandling him into his lap. 

Rudyard arranges his knees on either side of Eric’s hips and his arms still come up around Eric’s neck. They kiss again. Rudyard continues his adorable moans and whimpers, knees uncontrollably clenching around Chapman’s hips.

Eric realizes his tactical mistake a moment later: it’s hotter like this, maybe too hot, but Eric can’t really bring himself to care about decency and manners when he's got a hot and bothered Rudyard, smiling and blushing and really fucking into it, grinding against him on the train. Rudyard burrows his face in Eric’ neck, nosing between the soft, warm layers of his suit coat and scarf to nip little kisses into the flushed skin of Chapman’s neck. He’s got his hands under Eric’s untucked dress shirt now, thumbs pressing loving circles into the hollows of his hip bones. Eric is whispering filth into his ear as he strokes his way teasingly up the back of Rudyard’s thighs, polyester wrinkling in his wake.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about that night on the yacht either, you know, how I wish I’d fucked you right in the lower cabin. Your hair would’ve been still wet from the sea, and you would have probably still been cold and shivering, but I’d have fucked you so hard - so good - that you’d be warm.”

He suggestively licks the shell of Rudyard’s ear so that his breath on his next words will chill the drying moisture there and send shivers down his spine.

“I'd fuck you so hard you'd faint."

Rudyard’s moan is loud, even through the layers of scarf and clothing, but Eric’s hiss when the other man bites hard on his sensitive neck is almost just as bad. He buries both hands in Rudyard’s dark hair to drag him up into a searing kiss. Rudyard sighs into it and presses their bodies even closer, bringing one hand up to a disheveled dress shirt, to defiantly flick at a peaked nipple and drinking in the helpless noise Chapman makes.

Eric catches the hand and brings it up to his mouth, messily licking a narrow line from the wrist to the tip of his middle finger. He lingers for a moment at the tip, making eye contact with Rudyard – who is giddily watching him under heavily lidded eyes with a focused expression that should be ridiculous with the flush of arousal spread across his cheeks and the absolute mess Eric has made of his soft brown hair, but is really just incredibly hot – before sucking the finger all the way into his mouth in a quick bob. Rudyard whimpers in a way that’s only half for show, grinding their hips together purposefully and keeping his eyes trained on Eric’s mouth. Eric lets the fingers slip from his mouth a moment later in order to again bury his hands in Rudyard’s hair. He yanks upward, exposing Rudyard’s bobbing Adam's apple as he moans.

“You little minx,” he whispers, working a hand down the back of Rudyard’s tight suit pants to grope at his ass, “Can’t keep your hands to yourself in public, want my dick so badly you’re begging for it on a train.”

Rudyard moans helplessly, head still forced back, struggling to maintain a steady tone, he retaliates, “Well, I don’t see you complaining.”

“No,” he has to take his hand out of Rudyard’s hair to bat away the one rubbing at the front of his khakis. “But if you can’t behave yourself I may have to punish you.”

Rudyard groans and disparagingly rests his arms over Eric’s broad shoulders and leans the top of his head against Eric’s chest.

“This is punishment.”

“I’ll show you punishment,” and Eric means it as a joke, a tiny threat, something to convince Rudyard to cool it till they get off the train, on the ferry, off the ferry, then back to Piffling. He means it as a joke until he reaches for the packet of lube hidden beneath the pocket square in his breast pocket. The foil is ripped open and Eric coats a finger. He moves his hands to support Rudyard by the lower back, just above the belt, and slips a finger between his cheeks to rub across his hole, slicking around the outside. Rudyard goes absolutely still and his eyes are wide and dark when their gazes meet. They're perfectly still for a beat, just admiring each other from up close, and then Eric twists his finger deeper and Rudyard makes a broken noise as he dives in for a kiss. His hips are uncontrollably pressing back, begging against Chapman's hand.

“Here?” Eric gasps out between kisses, finger working Rudyard obediently open. He had only been teasing Rudyard at the conference, whispering about exhibitionism to get him ramped up before his presentation, but now here they are on the train and Rudyard – who has only weeks prior been cursing Eric’s name in a very different way – is now very real and hissing, “ yes” and grinding back against his hand.

“Bloody hell, Chapman–“

“I think we know each other well enough to be on the first name basis by now, don’t you?” Rudyard moans and bites hard on Eric’s swollen lower lip to shut him up.

It’s an awkward fumble for logistics and Eric has to pull his fingers away to dig the condom out of his pocket, Rudyard whining impatiently at the loss, but then they’re settled. Rudyard’s feet rest where his knees used to be, his thighs bent to nearly touch his calves, all tucked along Eric’s sides and Eric’s strong arms are around his back to keep him from falling. 

They’ve both finally got their belts open, Rudyard’s dress pants, irreparably wrinkled, are shoved down to mid-thigh to give Erics's fingers space as they return, two now, to stretch him open. He’s begging and whining for it, “Just bloody do it, goddamnit, Chapman, come on.” Eric intended on drawing it out a little longer to savor some more of the sweet, desperate, little cries he could draw from the normally oh-so-self-righteous Rudyard, but the lube is starting to run a little thin so Eric pulls his fingers free and circles them gently around the rim, spreading what little remains. He rolls the condom on.

“You okay like this?”

Rudyard moves his hips restlessly back, but he has so little leverage in this position that all he can do is huff in frustration.

“Yes, yes, bloody hell, yes. Why is it so hard to get you to fuck me, Chapman?” And then he’s got the angle, he’s sliding in and Rudyard is at a loss for words, reduced to needy, incoherent noises as he sinks down. Even with the addition of the condom, it's less lube than either usually prefers, and the drag is much stronger than they’re used to. Thankfully the angle keeps Eric from going too fast and risking any harm to Rudyard. Still, the way in seems to take a breathless eternity. Finally, Rudyard is settled in his lap, back delicately bowed and face hidden in Chapman’s thick, fuzzy scarf. Eric turns his face to press a gentle kiss to the bunny-soft hair at the nape of Rudyard’s neck as he rocks his hips up. 

He can’t thrust as hard as he would like this way, and he takes a moment to regret that he is indeed fucking his boyfriend in a train car, but then Rudyard is arching his back and gasping as Eric inexplicably slides deeper and he thinks he could get lost in this heat and never want to be found.

It's amazingly intimate as they built a rhythm, sharing breath and clinging to each other to keep from falling and maybe a little bit because now that Eric has him, he wants to keep Rudyard here. Rudyard is shaking, body tightening and rocking down hard every time Eric hits the right angle, but the fingers he slips into Eric’s hair are gentle as he begs for a kiss almost demurely.

The tenderness can't last, though, not when they've been building to this for hours and hours, and their kisses turn dirty quickly. Neither of them have any idea what stop they're on but they know they don’t have much time and the added rush of being caught thrums in their veins and turns them desperate.

They grind together, all sense of finesse long gone, brutishly rutting and making far too much noise but, honestly, Eric is too far gone to even notice. He's close, the anticipation and the risk crawling sparks up his spine and pooling in his gut. It's precarious, and it makes Rudyard cling to him in a way that he won’t admit to really liking, but he removes one of the hands holding Rudyard to him and brings it between them.

He gropes at Rudyard’s cock gracelessly. His hand is almost too dry, there really is not enough lube, but the hint of pain just makes them that much hotter as they both struggle towards the edge.

They're not even really kissing anymore, just panting into each other’s mouths, Rudyard gasping and muttering continuously, "yes" and "please" and "fuck,  _ Eric _ , oh -" and then he's coming all over Chapman’s hand, quivering with the same vigor as he had at the train stop and thoroughly ruining both of their button-ups. He collapses into Eric, boneless and whimpering. Still rutting gently into Rudyard, Eric presses protective kisses into the crown of the others head.

He looks so tired and content that Eric just wants to take him up to his bed and work the tension from his muscles, cuddle him to sleep, then make him breakfast when he wakes up. He wants to take care of Rudyard and show him the pleasures the constraints of his parent’s funeral home could never offer. All sorts of guilty, self-indulgent domestic desires threaten his mind, but he's still so close to coming on the goddamn train and they could be caught at any moment, he's going crazy and he can’t still his hips or stop the, "please," he rasps out, "please please, Rudyard -"

And even through his post-orgasmic haze Rudyard smirks, shifting his tired hips lazily, helping Eric find his own release.

They stay like that for long moments after they've stilled, capable of absolutely nothing beyond breathing heavily and trading tired kisses. When they eventually force themselves back into reality, the little sunlight they had, has dimmed to and they’ve missed their stop several times over. Eric does up the fastening on his pants, then Rudyard’s, and tries (with little avail) to fix his freshly-fucked hair. Eric dons his peacoat to cover the mess on his shirt and Rudyard does his best to hide lingering stains with his suit jacket. They get off at the next stop and have to walk an extra mile to the ferry dock.


End file.
